


Look At Me

by llcflms



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: College AU, M/M, They fall in love eventually, also they're all in a soccer team because i just wanted felix to be a jock, alt title: the fic where felix and sylvain try to fuck everywhere they can in college, friends with benefits au sort of as well, i'll add more characters and ships as we get through the story, or well... he used to be anyway whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llcflms/pseuds/llcflms
Summary: He scared his first kiss and the boy ran away, never for Sylvain to see him again. He promises to do better with people he meets later on. Now in college and the captain of their soccer team, Sylvain finds himself increasingly involved with a talented freshman who seems strangely taken with him. Not wanting to commit himself into anything but desperately wanting Felix in his team, Sylvain comes up with a simple arrangement for them that is purely physical. But as Sylvain starts to get to know Felix better, he wonders if he truly knows the boy in the first place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey a new college au, am i even surprise? no! don't have your hopes up, this is very self-indulgent. 
> 
> i only found out like after i wrote this chapter that sylvain might actually be 3 years older than felix in canon but i already wrote it so whatever there's a 2 year age gap in this fic between them. 
> 
> i'm not actually sure what country this fic is set in so i don't know how many years sylvain is meant to stay in college so let's just assume stuff like graduation never happens okay? i don't want to think too much about the worldbuilding, i just want to write them fucking lmao.

His first kiss was with a boy. He had been fifteen. The boy was younger but by not much— probably a year or two away. It was summer. He knows that for sure, but not because of the blistering heat, but because he remembers playing in his family’s summer home when he sees the boy. 

He can’t remember much about him. He knows the boy was very pretty— prettier than some girls Sylvain knows as well. He had thought the boy was a girl at first even. When he spotted the boy from a distance, he had his back to him. All Sylvain could see was long dark hair, flowing in the wind as the boy squatted in front of a tree, watching a sole flower in awe. The boy been shy and really soft. When Sylvain approached him, he had jumped in surprise, his face blowing up in bright crimson before taking a couple of steps back. 

It had taken Sylvain a while to calm him down. They talked after that, about a lot of things. The boy, smaller and shorter than Sylvain, had looked up at him with wide eyes as he listened animatedly to the stories Sylvain told him. His eyes were a deep, sharp orange. They glint like the sun— not the sun you see in the sky but instead, the actual orange glowing ball far far away out in space, which Sylvain has only seen in pictures and on tv. It’s amazing how bright and deep they were. It’s amazing how, when Sylvain looked into them, it felt blinding. He knew of nothing else in the world but him and that boy. He could drown in them; he’d dive in and let them consume him, little by little till every inch of him had been marred and charred by the flames. 

It was the first time Sylvain had ever felt like that. It was the first time he was attracted to someone. He wasn’t a moron so he knew immediately what these feelings meant. His father had always been quick to ensure Sylvain knew how to identify such things. _When you see someone that makes you feel this way, you claim her. You bring her to me, make her yours and we’d make sure you’re settled for life. I trust a man like you would choose someone appropriate._ His father’s words were, of course, with reference to a girl. He was talking about heirs, about having someone to leave the whole family business to— that _Sylvain_ would have someone to leave the family business too. They’d given up on Miklan far too long ago. Sylvain is the only one who could uphold the family honour. 

But the first time he felt anything like that, it was for another guy. Sylvain knew his father isn’t going to accept this. He kept silent. His family knew nothing about this. 

But he made sure the boy did. Older Sylvain would look back on this and cringe at how pathetic he was at flirting. It still worked on the boy though. Every time Sylvain complimented him on something, he’d freeze up, colour returning to his chubby cheeks. Sometimes Sylvain gets tempted to touch them and in the one time he did, the boy flushes up more, mumbling something under his breath as he turns away, clapping his hands to his cheeks. He had seemed embarrassed, but Sylvain could see happiness in his eyes— he liked it. He liked _him_. 

On his last day at their summer home, Sylvain kissed the boy. They were sitting under the tree again, kicking a soccer ball to each other lazily. Sylvain hadn’t really played soccer much, but the boy had been interested in it. He had said something about how he wanted to be like his brother. Sylvain didn’t know much but he knew this boy had a good relationship with his brother at least, unlike him. 

Sylvain did it after they played, when they were both lying under the tree, sweaty and panting. He had watched the boy from the corner of his eyes as the boy looked up at the sky, reaching his hands out. He was saying something about a dream, something about how far he wanted to go. Sylvain hadn’t been paying attention to his words. He was looking at him— how the boys eyes were open wide, how his pupils glimmered under the light, how his rosy cheeks that were usually flushed from embarrassment were red from excitement and joy, how he spoke with hope and joy unlike when they first met. This boy was beautiful. It was his first but he’s sure he knows what it means to be attracted to someone. To like them. To love them. 

When he rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, the boy had looked at him curiously. When he leaned forward, the boy’s eyes met his, unwavering and steady. When he closed the distance between their lips, the boy raised his head. 

When Sylvain kissed him, he knew that he’s never going to be able to feel this way again. This was exactly the feeling his father had talked to him about. This was what he’s supposed to find, to make his and to bring home. He couldn’t bring this boy home. There’s no way his father would be okay with it. But he didn't suppose there’s anything wrong with making him his. 

Amidst his hazy memories about his boy, there’s one thing Sylvain remembers so clearly— this kiss, or rather, their series of kisses. It’s only one instance that they kissed but after a second of parting their lips, either one pulled the other in for more. He’s sure it’s him at the start, but the boy got more desperate too, his hand fisting in Sylvain’s hair and kissing him back.

It’s starts pure and innocent, just two kids exploring each other. But Sylvain got impatient. He’s never done this before, but the feelings bubbled up in him and it got just too much. He didn’t just want to kiss. He wants to feel the boy, to know his body more.

When he moved his lips to the boy’s neck, the boy yelped. The boy shuddered when he lightly bit on the junction between his neck and shoulder. The boy panted under him as he continued to, but when Sylvain’s hand travelled under his shirt, the boy gasped. He slapped Sylvain’s hand away and jumped back, hugging his body. 

It had shocked Sylvain. He had been sure the boy _wanted_ it. But the boy stared at him with wide eyes— confusion swimming in them. He didn’t know what this was, Sylvain understood immediately. Sylvain had rushed in too much. Before Sylvain could apologize, the boy scampered up to his feet, murmuring his own apology before turning and running off. Sylvain stared at the retreating back of the boy. It’s only when the boy had disappeared from his view that Sylvain recalled that he was supposed to tell the boy it was his last day there and that they couldn’t meet anymore. He had planned to keep in touch but now, there was no way of asking. 

The memory of the boy eventually faded into sweet nostalgia. Of course, it did teach him things the Gautier household never would— ask before you do anything, make sure they want it, make sure they’re on the same page as you. Perhaps for men like his father, the world might be something for him to take from as his wish. Perhaps for Sylvain, as a son of such a man, he might be able to do that as well. But it seems the world has a way of protecting the weak. He never got a chance to see the boy again; the world had saved him when it made them part. But Sylvain made an oath that day as he walked back to his summer home— never again is the world going to have to protect someone from him. 

* * *

** **

“Sylvain!” Ingrid’s horrified scream is all the warning he needs. Before she can spot him, he slips into the men’s locker room. She must have found out about another one of his escapades. He wonders who it was this time who woke up after a long night only to find out they’re alone in bed, which really, they shouldn’t be surprised for. No one really asks him to be there for them _after_ they fuck. 

“What did you do this time, Sylvain?” Even in the men’s locker room, he’s never spared. Right as he turns around, he comes face-to-face with Dimitri, who sighs at the sight of him and shakes his head. How loud had Ingrid shouted for him if those in the locker room could hear her as well?

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Sylvain holds his hands up. He’s innocent. He really didn’t do anything wrong. 

“Right. Then, I’m sure it’ll be okay if I ask Ingrid about it,” Dimitri says. 

Bold of a bunch of freshmen like Dimitri and Ingrid to call him out like that. 

“You can’t. It’s time for training,” Sylvain says immediately. He grabs Dimitri by his shoulders and spins him around, pushing him as they walk deeper into the locker room. “Come on, time to change.” 

College is a chore. Sylvain doesn’t really need to be here, not when he’s set to inherit his family business in the first place. His father had insisted he went still. It’s better for their heir to at least complete his degree. It’ll help with business. Sylvain realises after a while that he doesn’t really need to work hard. All he needs are passing grades for every class. He isn’t necessarily dumb, though many would think so. If he does put in effort, he knows he’ll kick almost everyone’s ass. But he _chooses_ not to. It makes his life simpler and more enjoyable, especially since he knows that fun isn’t something he’s going to get when he’s out of college and into the working world.

He’s here to make the most of his life and he has no plans to do otherwise. 

Of course, putting in effort into schoolwork is very different from club work. As he ushers the team into the field, Sylvain tries to get into his captain role as much as he can, leading warmups and making sure everyone puts in their best. He isn't the best at being a leader. He never really does it much, but there aren't many dedicated members in his year. Dimitri is really good though, but he's still new. He'd probably become the next captain. Sylvain had heard their coach speaking about it before. But for now, it's still Sylvain so he has to do it whether he likes it or not, though he doesn't dislike it. Soccer is fun. He never used to think much about sports but after being introduced to soccer, he realises he loves it. He had joined his school’s team in high school and they had gone to the nationals a couple of times. In college, things are usually more relaxed for him. Though for the time being, it’s a different story.

“What do you mean Caspar broke his arm?” Sylvain cries out after their training. He’s with Claude, Dimitri and Dedue, standing in a line, their backs to the wall of the bathroom behind them. He had noticed Caspar missing from the team as they trained and it had piqued his interest. The hyperactive boy never missed training before. He knew something probably happened, but he didn’t think it’ll be this permanent. 

“I heard it from Linhardt earlier on. He broke his arm last night after picking a fight with Jeritza,” Claude explains. 

There’s a lot of things that are running through Sylvain’s mind right now, so much that he wonders what he should focus on first. But even as he thinks about it, his mind keeps going back to one burning question that refuses to fade away. 

“Why the hell did he pick a fight with Jeritza out of all people?” he grumbles. 

Claude lets out a snort. “Right? Dude’s got a death wish.” 

“I don’t suppose he would be able to play with a broken arm, would he?” Dimitri sighs, rubbing his chin. 

“It’s only a small futsal tournament so we don’t exactly have a shortage of players or anything,” Sylvain murmurs thoughtfully as his eyes scanned their scattered team. They don’t have a strong force so finding someone to replace Caspar will pose a big challenge. Dimitri and Claude seemed to be thinking the same thing as well, their shoulders shrugging after one glance at the team. 

“Guess we’re fucked,” Claude says, throwing his hands in the air. 

“We shouldn’t be quick to give up,” Dedue says solemnly. “Garreg Mach has always won this tournament so there must be something we can do.”

Their college didn’t actually win all the time. It won the past four years and that was simply because they had a strong team that stuck around until they graduated. They had been great and Sylvain had learnt enough from them to form a team of his own. Yet his plans had relied on Caspar greatly— the strongest striker among all the players they had currently. He probably is as good as Sylvain’s former teammates as well. It’s simply because of this that they had a chance. Without Caspar, it's unlikely they would win. 

“If only we can get someone as good as Caspar,” Sylvain groans. 

“That would be almost impossible. I only know a handful of people better than him but most of them are not here,” Dimitri says. Naturally, the former captain of the team that won the high school nationals would have come across many talented players but there’s nothing Dimitri can do about their situation. The rules of the tournament stated that only students of the university could take part. 

As they stood in silence, deep in thought, Claude straightens out all of a sudden, before bending over a little to look past Sylvain to Dimitri. “You said most.” 

Dimitri frowns. “I beg your pardon?”

“You said _most_ of them are not here— not all. There are people here that means,” Claude points out, grinning cheekily. 

“Well,” Dimitri says slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I do know a person.” 

“Just one person?” Claude groans. 

“One is enough, isn’t it?” Dedue says. 

“Yeah, we only need one person. The substitutes can easily be filled by the rest of the team, as per the original plan,” Sylvain replies. It sounds like the perfect plan, but Sylvain can tell from Dimitri’s expression that it probably won’t be that simple. Dimitri’s hesitation is scrawled all over his face but before he could say anything, he glances away, something in the distance having caught his eye. His eyes widen. 

“There he is,” Dimitri says. Sylvain follows the direction of Dimitri’s eyes. There’s a boy a short distance away, dressed in all black. Sylvain can’t really make out much of his appearance from that distance, other than the fact that he’s probably much smaller than the rest of them. Caspar is pretty small too, but that had never impeded his performance. If anything, it made him much more agile, easily managing to manoeuvre the ball through much bigger players.

“Well, get him over here then,” Claude says, amidst squinting at the boy’s retreating figure. 

He has headphones on so calling out for him is clearly out of the picture. Dimitri fumes at the boy’s back for a moment before bending down to pick up the bag that lay at his feet. He pulls out his phone and quickly dials something, before placing it at his ear. 

“Wow, you got his number memorised,” Claude chuckles. 

“They’re best friends,” Dedue says simply. "From childhood."

“What? Best friends?” Ever the melodramatic joker, Claude stands in front of Dimitri with crossed arms. “Your best friend is apparently a player more talented than Caspar and not only is he not on our team, but none of us even know of his existence?” 

“It’s a long story,” Dimitri sighs, eyes turning back to glare at the boy. 

“Put it on speaker,” Claude says quickly. He doesn’t really give Dimitri a chance to object, taking the phone from him and turning it to speaker. “Oh, his name is Felix. How nice.”

Felix does sound like a nice name. Sylvain grins in agreement, though he keeps his eyes on the boy. The figure that is probably Felix had stopped walking and had pulled his own phone out of his pocket. He stares at the screen for a long time, so long that Sylvain is sure that the line would get cut anytime. Eventually, he pulls his headphones off, leaving them to hang around his neck, and presses the phone into his ear. The ringing from the phone stops and a low voice sounds out. 

“What do you want, boar?” His voice is cold enough that it almost makes Sylvain wince. But it’s deep and rather smooth— the kind that sends shivers down one’s spine, the kind that’s really nice to listen to closely. 

“Well, hello to you too, Felix. Could you please turn around?” Dimitri replies. 

“Huh? What?” Even though he’s confused, he turns and Dimitri waves in response. “What the fuck, Dimitri? Did you just call me for that? We’re not in middle school anymore.” 

Even though he can’t see Felix’s expression, Sylvain can imagine the kind of face he’d had from the amount of disgust he hears in Felix’s voice. He chuckles a little. This seems like a hotheaded person. People like that are always fun to mess around with if you know the right buttons to push. Dimitri clearly knows Felix’s. 

“We’re not calling for that,” Claude sighs. 

“What the fuck, boar? Do you have me on fucking speaker?” Felix yells. He starts to walk towards them and as he approaches, Sylvain starts to make out his face, laughing silently at the scowl plastered on it. He's a pretty good-looking man, with sharp features and long hair. Dimitri had said he plays soccer, but Sylvain finds himself doubting it. The boy's pale skin seems to suggest it doesn't get much sun.

"I'm going to beat the shit out of you, Dimitri!" Felix continues to yell. By this point, there really isn’t a need to talk on the phone anymore. Dimitri hangs up, dropping his phone nicely so that its cushioned by his bag on the floor. Felix hangs up his phone as well, his hands sliding into the pocket of his faded black hoodie.

“Fuck you, Dimitri,” Felix snaps. Sylvain can't exactly tell how Felix and Dimitri are best friends. Felix seems to hate Dimitri more than anything. 

“You really need some new insults,” Dedue says, voice as flat as ever. Felix flares up even more, snarling at the both of them before crossing his arms and turning away. 

“You guys piss me off. Whatever, I’m going.” 

As amusing as this might be, there is a reason they called him here in the first place. Sylvain reaches out and pats him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Wait, we wanted to ask you something,” he says. 

Felix turns, his movements sharp and swift. “Ask me what now—” He pauses, his words dying. For a split second, he sees Felix’s eyes widen in what look like surprise, before they narrow again and his previous scowl takes its place. “Who’re you?” 

“That’s Sylvain, the captain of our soccer team,” Dimitri says. 

“Sylvain…” Felix murmurs, more to himself. He furrows his brows for a moment, looking almost thoughtful. “Yeah, that must be it.”

It almost seems as if a sad, distant look had crossed his eye, like someone reminiscing a lost past. Sylvain has never met this boy before. He must have imagined it. But still, he's curious. 

“Must be what?” Sylvain asks. 

“You’re that fuckboy,” Felix says immediately, narrowed eyes meeting Sylvain’s rounder ones. “I’ve heard about you.” 

“I’m not a fuckboy,” Sylvain sighs. It doesn’t really bother him as much anymore but it sure does get old when he keeps hearing it over and over again. He likes to think that he’s not _that_ playful and that he’s, at least, a little bit more respecting of others and their space. Rumours aren’t so kind, however. They just spread whatever people want to hear. 

“What does the King of women want from me now?” Felix scoffs. Dedue is right. He really needs to work on his insults. Felix brings a hand to his hip, leaning to one side as he stands. There’s so much malice in his voice that if Sylvain hadn’t heard Felix’s conversation with Dimitri, he’d have assumed Felix hates him. But if he gives the benefit of the doubt to Felix's supposed best friend, he doesn't think this is too bad. Still, this is much too cold. He wonders if Felix is the type to get jealous over other people getting laid while he doesn’t. Maybe he just has a thing against the type of guy he seems to think Sylvain is. If only he could somehow prove Felix wrong, that would be nice.

“We want you to play with us. Caspar got hurt and we need a really good person to score our goals,” Claude explains. 

It’s simple, but it gets the point across. Felix surely understands because his face changes immediately in response. If he’s cold before, now, he’s angry. He glares at Dimitri, nostrils flaring as he speaks. “This? This is why you called me? To _play_?” he hisses. 

“Felix, I know how you feel about it, but—”

“If you knew how I feel then why’d you fucking agree to this?” Felix shouts, cutting in. “I’ve quit. I don’t plan to go back. Ever. Leave me alone.” 

He doesn’t really give them a chance to explain further, or even any time to fully comprehend what he’s saying. By the time Sylvain realises that he had walked off, Felix had already taken a couple of steps away. Sylvain doesn’t really get what’s going on. It’s obvious something had happened. But all he really understands now is that their ticket to winning the tournament is angrily stomping off. Without knowing what else to do, Sylvain runs after him. 

Felix walks pretty fast. By the time Sylvain catches up to him and reaches to grab him by his wrist, they’re already a distance away from Dimitri and the others. Felix turns around immediately, his anger still yet to dissipate. But when he sees Sylvain, his eyes go wide again and he takes one step back. A brief wonder surfaces in Sylvain’s mind. It seems like he bothers Felix to quite a degree, though he doesn’t really understand why. Regardless, he has more important things to worry about. 

“I’m sorry if we did something wrong but please, we _need_ you to play for us,” Sylvain says. 

“I don’t play anymore,” Felix snaps, trying to free his wrist, only for Sylvain to grip it harder. 

“It’s really just for the tournament, please. We need someone good.” 

“Look, since you don’t understand a simple _I’ve quit_, I haven’t played in years. I can’t keep up. You’ll lose,” Felix points out with another hiss. 

It almost feels like he’s dealing with a wild animal. Felix is so hostile that Sylvain wonders if he’s going to suddenly pounce on him and claw his eyes out. It certainly does look that way from the anger and annoyance brewing in his eyes. In a way, though, it’s kinda cute to see someone his size act big and tough, especially against Sylvain who’s towering over him right now. He’s almost like a kitten with its claws out. 

“If Dimitri says you’re good, I’m sure you’re good,” Sylvain says. 

“I’m really rusty. Let me go.” 

“You’ll pick it up again. You seem pretty fit still,” Sylvain says a little playfully. He had felt some muscles when he touched Felix earlier on and he can feel some strength in his arm from the way Felix tries to pull away from his grip. But Sylvain lets his eyes scan Felix’s frame. His hoodie doesn’t give much away, but his jeans— also faded it seems— seem to reveal a pair of legs that are clearly lean and strong. He looks back up at Felix and while faint, he sees the dust of pink on his cheeks. That hadn't been there before. Had Felix noticed Sylvain looking at him?

Maybe another method would work better. He tugs Felix by the wrist to pull him closer, just till Felix is almost against him but not quite touching. Sylvain smirks down at him, intentionally putting on a face that he knows is capable of making others swoon. Felix’s eyes widen, his blush spreading further. He seems embarrassed, but his attempts at trying to pull his hand free stills and he simple stares up at Sylvain in surprise. 

“W-Wha…?” How cute. He can barely speak. So he is the type to get flustered easily— they’re easy to convince. It seems like he's right. This does seem like a method that might work.

“Come on, just a little bit?” Sylvain asks, lowering his voice a little to a soft plea. “We just need one person.” 

Felix swallows and Sylvain amuses himself by watching the slight movement in his slender throat. He makes sure that Felix knows he's watching and he's sure that tremble he feels in his hands means it's working. “I… I don’t think I’ll be good enough.”

“If you have the skills, that’s enough. You should be good enough with a little bit of training,” Sylvain assures him. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” 

“Fun…” Felix repeats after him, his voice low. “Soccer… isn’t fun.” 

Sylvain hadn’t thought so too the first time, but when he started to play, he started to love playing with his friends. Working together, winning together, losing together, crying together— everything had meant a lot to him. It had made him feel things he never would have, especially not someone like him with no other goals to work towards. 

“What’s fun isn’t the game. It’s playing it together. Come on. We’ll all be together,” Sylvain says. 

“We’ll be together, huh?” Felix’s mumbling continues, as soft as ever but with more distaste in his voice. He looks away, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Really?” Sylvain perks up— nice, they got a chance now. 

“Don’t get your hopes up.” 

“Sure. Let’s meet here tomorrow at 4. If you’re willing to join, I’ll get the gear you need ready for you and maybe we could kick around or something,” Sylvain offers. 

“Will the boar be there?” Felix asks softly. 

It takes a moment for Sylvain to recall the nickname he heard earlier on. “Dimitri? If you want—”

“No,” Felix cuts in. He runs his free hand through the loose strands of his bangs. He’s still turned away, but his eyes are opened now. “I haven’t played in so long so I might be an embarrassment. You come alone…” 

“Fine then, if you want it to be us _alone_,” Sylvain replies, his tone suggesting things that words alone wouldn’t convey. Felix’s eyes go wide again. Sylvain must be staring pretty hard at him since he notices the slight shiver that runs through Felix’s body. Felix snatches his wrist away from Sylvain’s grip and this time, Sylvain lets him go. Felix’s face is bright red again, but he doesn’t give Sylvain any chance to comment on it before he turns around and starts to walk away quickly.

“Tomorrow at 4! I’ll be waiting!” Sylvain yells out behind him. 

“S-Shut up! I know!” Felix glances back once before he hastens his speed. Sylvain watches him as he leaves, a smirk slowly spreading on his face. 

_How cute._ He’s totally smitten. 

** _—0—_ **

Dimitri was probably being humble. When Sylvain sees Felix plays, he knows that Felix is on a whole new level. Even Caspar would struggle against Felix. 

Felix wasn’t lying when he said that he hadn’t been training and he would be a little rusty. Sylvain could see from the annoyance on Felix’s face that he isn’t running as fast as he hopes to or his footwork is a lot sloppier than he expected it to be. He clicks his tongue whenever he stumbles or whenever he shoots, only for the ball to not curve as much as he wanted it to. Even so, he’s doing so much better than anyone in their team could. 

Felix is their ticket to winning, with or without Caspar, and Sylvain has no idea why Dimitri had kept him hidden for so long. 

After about two hours of endless passing, dribbling and scoring— more on Felix’s part than Sylvains— the two stumble off the field. Felix grabs his bag before throwing himself down on the ground, pulling out a bottle and taking a couple of sips. 

“I hadn’t perspired this much in years,” Felix grumbles. He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“You’re good,” Sylvain replies, taking a seat beside him. 

Felix scowls, turning away from him. “I’m not joining your stupid team just because you think I’m good.” 

“You’re not?” Sylvain had thought that Felix’s willingness to meet up with him today had meant he was interested to begin with. “Then why’d you agree to play today?” 

“I hadn’t played in a while and I just felt nostalgic,” Felix says simply. He gets up, picks his bag up and slings it over his shoulders, before dusting stray blades of grass and specks of dirt of his shorts. 

“You can do that with Dimitri any time,” Sylvain points out.

“I don’t. Because I quit,” Felix replies. He looks like he’s about to leave, like he might pull a goodbye out anytime. Sylvain knows he can’t let that happen. He has no plans on breaking the team’s record, especially not when the team is so determined to win as well. On top of that, after playing with Felix for a bit, he realises that he’s never met another player like him before. He wants to experience being on the same team, to play _together_ rather than against him. He doesn’t just plan on keeping Felix around for the futsal tournament. He wants Felix to stay in their team for good. 

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Sylvain laughs, he reaches for Felix’s wrist, tugging lightly. “Come on, join us.” 

Felix’s eyes cloud for a moment, a sudden heaviness weighing down on him. “I… It’s not… I…”— he pauses, his eyes falling onto Sylvain’s hand on his wrist as colour immediately returns to his face— “This is— I…”

Sylvain decides to test the waters. He lets his hand move down a little, just enough for his thumb to run along Felix’s palm. Felix’s eyes go round, betraying his perplexity and his interest. Getting his answer from that slight reaction, Sylvain pulls him downwards. Felix’s legs buckle from the sudden movement and he falls towards Sylvain, knees falling onto Sylvain’s lap. Felix’s face burst into red again. Sylvain doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get over how easy it is to get Felix to blush and how dark his blush gets when he does blush. Despite his embarrassment, Felix’s temper starts to flare up as well. 

“Just _what_ do you think you’re doing?” he belts out. He tries to stumble back but Sylvain holds on to him. 

“I think we should take a shower,” Sylvain replies. He doesn’t say much, but Felix gets the implication. He parts his mouth as if to say something, only for words to fail him. Sylvain reaches towards him, running his thumb along Felix’s jawline. “We’re pretty sweaty. It’ll be better to get clean, don’t you think?”

Of course, getting clean is the last thing on Sylvain mind. If anything, he’d love to dirty Felix even further. 

Felix growls, slapping his hand away. “Do whatever you want.” 

** _—0—_ **

Sylvain doesn’t really get why Felix is attracted to him. It had been a hunch initially but he confirms it the moment they enter the locker room and Felix willingly allows Sylvain to pull him along. He’s never met Felix before, but it seems Felix had already known about him previously. He wonders if Felix is some sort of secret admirer. Maybe he had been watching Sylvain for so long, pinning for him but never doing anything about it. Felix is an attractive guy so Sylvain wouldn’t have rejected him if he had approached him. He’s not down for any serious commitments but a couple of dates and flings here and there isn’t a problem. Maybe Felix didn’t like those sorts of things. Maybe he just wanted a serious boyfriend and Sylvain’s playing around hadn’t pleased him. Maybe he just thought he stood no chance. 

But Felix had missed out a lot like this and Sylvain wants to make him realise this, to show him just what he could have gotten if he had approached him earlier. 

They had entered the locker room to take a shower, but instead, Sylvain pulls him to the benches and Felix simply follows along, with no hints of resistance or unwillingness. He says nothing when Sylvain pushes him against the locker, averting his eyes as his cheeks burned bright red. Sylvain presses a hand beside Felix’s head, leaning forward, his face merely an inch or two away from Felix’s. 

“I’m not getting the wrong idea here, am I?” Sylvain asks, just to be sure. He doesn’t really need to ask. Felix is like an open book. But he does so anyway. He doesn’t want to scare anyone away, or to give them wrong ideas. He isn’t the same person from all those years ago and he doesn’t want his experience with that boy from his childhood to happen again. So, he asks. He always asks. Felix shakes his head, but Sylvain takes him by the chin to turn him to face him. “Say it. Tell me what you want.” 

“That’s stupid,” Felix grumbles. “Are you asking for permission? _You_?”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know what kind of weird things you’ve heard about me but I’m not forcing you into anything.”

“That doesn’t seem like you,” Felix argues back.

“Come on, you don’t even know me,” Sylvain chuckles. He leans his face closer to Felix, whose eyes widen a little.

“I…” Words seem to fail Felix and he scowls. Instead of speaking any more, he grabs Sylvain by the shirt and pulls him closer, closing the distance between their lips and kissing him. Sylvain chuckles into the kiss, his fingers moving to run through Felix’s hair as Felix deepens the kiss. His locks are damp from sweat, his bun coming loose and undone from their game previously; Sylvain’s only making it messier. He hadn’t realised how long Felix’s hair is until he feels the bun. He has long dark hair and it felt wavy under his fingertips; it’s kinda Sylvain’s type. _Really hot_. Sylvain just keeps wanting to pull on it and mess it up even more. When he does just that, Felix moans against his lips. 

Felix latches onto his bottom lip, sucking and nibbling it lightly. His body presses against Sylvain, hands moving downward to slide under his t-shirt. Sylvain breaks away from the kiss, just enough to pull his top off and toss it aside. Felix reaches for his body, palms running down his front before sliding to his back, stroking and exploring his muscles. He pushes Felix against the locker and his hands slide down to his thighs. He hoists Felix up and Felix responds by wrapping his legs around Sylvain’s waist. Leaning Felix against the locker again, he pushes Felix’s t-shirt up, enough to press kisses along the side of his torso. His skin is slick and he tastes salty, mostly from all the perspiration. Normally, Sylvain would prefer to take a shower before doing something like this or to do it while they’re in the shower. He seems to have broken his rule for Felix. He decides not to dwell on it too much, however. Felix is already doing him a great favour by joining their team— _hopefully_. He should stay on his good side at the very least.

Felix leans his head back against the locker and cries out when Sylvain’s lips latch onto a nipple, his hips thrusting forward. Sylvain can feel Felix’s erection against his body and it doesn’t help that Felix himself is rubbing it against him. He’s just as turned on. He knows he’s hard even though his pants aren’t as tight as they usually feel— shorts are a blessing at times like this. 

He doesn’t think either of them can wait for much longer so he pulls away, holding Felix in place as he moves to the bench. He sits, before lifting Felix up— he’s a lot heavier than he looks, but the weight still doesn’t really bother Sylvain much— and manoeuvring him to sit on Sylvain’s lap, his back to his front. He eases Felix’s legs apart, palming the tent between them. Felix throws his head back, leaning against the crook of Sylvain’s neck, as he lets out a sweet cry. 

“You called me a fuckboy yesterday, didn’t you?” Sylvain chuckles. “What does that make you, all hard and wet for this fuckboy, hm?” He leans forward and nibbles lightly on Felix’s earlobe, hands sliding between the waistband of Felix’s shorts and boxers to touch him directly. Felix’s breathing quickens, his voice raspy and desperate. He’s moving his hips and Sylvain has to stifle a groan when he feels Felix’s ass rubbing against his own tent. He stops his movements for a moment to lift Felix’s hips up a little and to pull his shorts and boxers off, leaving them to bunch around Felix’s knees. Felix whines at the loss of contact and the moment his crotch is bare, he reaches for Sylvain’s hand, leading it back to his cock. Sylvain chuckles, wrapping his fingers around and stroking him. 

Simply jerking Felix off wouldn’t get either of them what they want. Sylvain is about half-aware as he reaches for his bag, trying his best to find the right compartment before pulling out a bottle of lube. He flips the cap open with one hand and brings it to the other hand, squeezing it over his fingers after he releases Felix’s crotch. Felix is silent as he watches Sylvain but when he sees the hand all lubed-up, he spreads his legs a little more, leaning backwards further to give himself some leverage to lift his hips up. 

He seems to know what he’s doing, Sylvain muses to himself as he reaches down. He circles around Felix’s hole before pushing a finger in. Felix is hot down there and really tight, his muscles tense up and clenches down on Sylvain’s finger. It’s far from ready for his cock, but Sylvain can feel himself twitch simply from imagining how it would feel like to push into Felix. Thinking about it, it has also been a while since he’s been with a guy. 

“Just relax,” Sylvain coos as he moves his fingers, rubbing the walls and massaging the lube into him. Felix is silent, eyes squeezed tight, breathing almost haggard; he seems to be concentrating. It’s cute when he has such an expression on. Sylvain adds another finger and it must be a little too early because Felix winces, a soft, breathy cry slipping out of him. Sylvain stills, giving him some time to get used to it before he starts to move again. By the time he adds a third finger, Felix has started getting more and more into it, thrusting his hips along with the same rhythm, voice escaping whenever Sylvain scissors his fingers or presses it against his walls. 

“Please,” Felix whispers and Sylvain knows he can’t take much more, not from how frequent his cock twitches and from how wet it had gotten from the pre-cum. It looks tempting enough; Sylvain almost wants to push him down and lick it all up. He doesn’t think Felix would appreciate that or even be able to take it. He continues to move his fingers, till the tip of a finger brushes against that one spot that has Felix’s body jolting as he lets out a cry, spilling onto Sylvain’s hand. 

Felix slumps back against Sylvain after riding out his high, eyes narrowing slightly as he looks down at himself. 

“You came just like that, huh?” Sylvain chuckles. 

“Shut up,” Felix grumbles.He pushes Sylvain’s hands off him, getting shakily onto his feet. Sylvain watches him curiously, wondering if Felix is going to bolt out of here after coming, leaving Sylvain in this state— really hard and probably dripping too. Breathing deeply, Felix stares at Sylvain for a couple of moments, before shaking his head. He drops his shorts to the ground before kicking them off completely. “Well, where do you want me to go now?”

His dick twitches in his pants. How nice of Felix to be so considerate. Sylvain supposes he should return the sentiment to the best of his ability. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that smut isn't over yet but i'd leave the second half for felix's pov next chapter.
> 
> thank you guys for reading! do leave some kudos and comments~ i hope you guys look forward to the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i am back but sorry i'm sleepy i don't know what i'm writing i'm only awake thanks to day6 pls send help
> 
> what is proofreading i'm too tired i'm so sorry

When he first enrolled in Garreg Mach, he was surprised to see the familiar face of Sylvain Jose Gautier. His voice had gotten caught in his throat. His heart had beaten so hard in the confines of his chest that he wonders how no one else could hear it. His palms were sweaty enough to bar him from wanting to touch anyone ever again lest he becomes known for sweaty palms. It’s been so long since they had met but Sylvain hadn’t changed much. He’s still as charming as he was back then, his entire existence glowing welcomingly, drawing every kind of people to him like moths to a flame. He’s popular, he’s good-looking, he’s richer than most of the school— he’s pretty much every one’s dream. At one point, it had been Felix’s dream as well. 

Felix had to remind himself. Sylvain had disappeared after that kiss so long ago. True, Felix had freaked out and ran away, but he had just been taken by surprise over how fast Sylvain was taking things. Kissing was one thing but Felix hadn’t prepared himself for being touched. He had left Sylvain behind, but he returned the next day, and the days after, ready to apologize for his sudden action. Sylvain never showed up again. Felix had wondered if Sylvain had misunderstood things, thinking that Felix wasn't interested in what Sylvain wanted and somehow that had made Sylvain lose interest in him as well. When Felix brought the incident up to his friends and brother as a 'hypothetical' situation, they had all agreed with him. Sylvain must have moved on to someone else. Of course, that sort of person would grow into the biggest fuckboy of their university. Felix’s prior doubts had been for nothing. Sylvain is _that _kind of a person. He hadn’t changed at all. He’s the same— then and now. 

But he’s still handsome. The world had been so cruel to gift someone like him this much beauty. Felix himself is good-looking but he’s never had the attention that Sylvain gets (not that he wants it). It has to be their personality. Sylvain knows how to give people what they want and to get what he wants in return. He knows the right words to say to the right person to get them into his room and into his bed. Felix had never been able to talk to others, especially not in _that_ way, but he doesn’t really want to either. But when Sylvain was there in front of him, despite all better judgements, a part of him wanted to _try_ and on Sylvain of all people. College life went on afterwards and Felix never stepped forward. He watched Sylvain from a distance, building up the courage to approach him, only to turn away in a huff whenever he saw that there’s always someone beside Sylvain.

He learnt sometime later that Dimitri sees Sylvain every week during soccer practice. Sylvain had never really been interested in the sport. He hadn’t even known how to play until Felix had taught him all those years back. Felix had dreams back then— to become the best on the field, to play like no one else had ever played before. Naturally, it was Glenn, not Felix, who obtained that dream, but it eventually came at the cost of his life. Faerghus would never forget their legendary player that died doing his craft and as an extension, everyone also refuses to forget that Felix is the younger brother of said prodigy. They had wondered if he would take on his brother’s mantel eventually, constantly pestering him with their ridiculous questions and feigned concern. It had pissed Felix off and he had quit, swearing to himself that he’d want nothing to do with that anymore. No one would associate him with soccer anymore. He’d go invisible again and he did. Life had been going according to his plan, until Sylvain shows up again and suddenly a part of him wants _something_— anything to no longer be invisible and to catch Sylvain’s eye, even if Sylvain had been that bastard that hurt him back during that terrible summer. 

After hearing Dimitri’s words, Felix finds himself wandering closer and closer to the campus’ field every practice day. Dimitri isn’t someone to lie, but Felix had found it hard to believe his words until he could see Sylvain play with his own eyes. For the first few times, Felix had convinced himself that the reason he kept going to the field is to confirm Dimitri’s words for good. He does that after the first two times he went. Afterwards, it doesn’t really justify anything. But still, his legs continue to carry him over after classes every week. Even if he doesn’t stand and watch, he lets himself relish in the sight of Sylvain on the field— sweaty, panting and commanding— as Felix heads back to the dorms. 

Being around the field every week is already too close to soccer for Felix’s liking but he appeases his own feelings by telling himself that watching isn’t playing, that he’s there for _Sylvain_ and not soccer. It works pretty well and he has himself contented, until Dimitri’s call happens and he’s suddenly swept into a chain of events that subsequently makes no sense to him.

It’s the first time he comes into contact with Sylvain directly in college. It starts with a simple pat on his shoulder, before the finally talk. Felix knows better than to expect rainbows and sunshine when he finally meets and talks to the subject of his seven-year affection, but he hadn’t expected it to be this bland either. 

The moment he had met Sylvain’s eyes, he had realised that Sylvain hadn’t recognised him. It must have been foolish of him to think that the memories he had with Sylvain would be just as treasured by the latter. Clearly, someone as social as Sylvain has more friends and lovers to keep him company, enough so that a distant memory of a boy kissed under a tree seven years ago seems too inconsequential for him to even remember. He shouldn’t have expected more from him. It’s a good thing he never approached Sylvain to begin with; that would have been a bigger embarrassment— a bigger pain. 

Felix tells himself he needs to move on. Just like he moved on from what happened with Glenn by walking away from the thing that he loved most, he’ll move on again by walking away from Sylvain. It’s easy to reject their request. Dimitri should have known better than to ask him in the first place. He turns away and walks off. 

Maybe he should stop dropping by the field as well. 

Right as he believes he’s made up his mind, he feels his wrist being grabbed. 

* * *

“Not there.”

Words have meaning. He’s aware of them. But for some reason, they don’t seem to make any sense to him. When Sylvain bites down on the sensitive spot at the junction between his neck and shoulder, Felix shakes with anticipation and pleasure. He wants Sylvain to give him more attention. He wants it _there_. But words of protest spill out of his mouth. 

Sylvain pulls backs a little, just to brush his lips along the length of Felix’s neck instead. “Mm? No?” Felix feels the vibrations of his murmurs, as Sylvain’s hot breath touches his skin, contrasting sharply with the cold water raining down on them from the shower overhead. He feels the sensation coursing through his veins, spreading throughout his body and burning fiercely at the tips of his fingers and toes. 

“No, I…” His voice drones out as Sylvain moves to suck on his collarbone instead. 

“How’s here?” Sylvain asks amidst his kisses and Felix wonders if it’s even possible to respond when he’s feeling this good already— Sylvain hasn’t even put anything in him yet. “You have to tell me what you want or I won’t know.” 

Sylvain had made sure to ask for permission constantly but right now, he sounds more mocking than anything, playing and teasing Felix and probably relishing in his flustered and shaky reactions. Felix’s head swims. Sylvain keeps asking him every little thing and Felix can’t stop wondering if he had mistaken him. He surely hadn’t asked anything back then all those years ago. Maybe he learnt some manners, but it doesn’t make Felix any happier, not when Sylvain still clearly doesn’t recognize him. He must have been with so many people that Felix was just another one of them. 

“Felix.” At the sound of his name on Sylvain’s lips, Felix shivers. _That_ is different too. Sylvain’s voice has gotten much deeper, much rougher. It’s nothing like before, nothing like the fantasies that had plagued Felix’s mind since that day. He wonders what he had imagined all this while— how weird had it been for him to think that Sylvain wouldn’t change at all after all this time. He’s unrecognisable in more ways than one Felix still knew who he is. On the other hand, Felix doesn’t think he’s changed much; despite possible already knowing the reason why, he wonders again why Sylvain doesn’t recognize him. 

“What do you want?” Sylvain asks. His lips are now on Felix’s ear, nibbling the earlobe slightly and tugging it after he speaks. “Tell me.” 

There’s so many things he wants— so many things he wants to _try_ out. He can’t even begin to explain where he’d like to start. But it doesn’t really matter. He doesn’t care what they do. Nothing matters if it’s with Sylvain. He just wants to feel good _with Sylvain_. It’s embarrassing and Goddess knows he’ll never be honest about it aloud, especially not to Sylvain, but he body continues to ache more and more for him, betraying Felix’s deepest desires. 

“If I had to make a guess,” Sylvain continues after a long moment of wordlessness from Felix, “it’s here.” As he speaks, a hand snakes down Felix’s body, to his hips and back to his ass. A finger pushes its way between his cheeks, lightly circling the hole. Thanks to what Sylvain had already done just now, it’s pretty much loose and wet, ready for something that’s much bigger than a single index finger. Despite that, Sylvain smirks and his finger slides in too easily till its knuckle, curling itself as its buried deep in Felix. Felix hisses as he feels Sylvain prod at his walls, running a nail lightly along it. 

“Do you want this?” he asks. 

Felix relents. He has to say something eventually or this nonsensical teasing is never going to end. He shakes his head. “I want… more.” 

“More? Like this?” Sylvain hums playfully and slides another finger in. Felix grits his teeth, his fingers digging into Sylvain’s shoulder harder as he feels Sylvain scissors deep inside of him. 

“Sylvain, I… I want—” He stops. He knows his cheeks are flushing more than before— he blushes too damn easily. But he can’t help how embarrassed he’s feeling right now either. Sylvain is here, in front of him, touching him and making him feel good. Yet it’s not enough and he wants more. This is embarrassing. _He_ is embarrassing. 

“Tell me what you want.” Sylvain’s words sound almost like a command and Felix realises he can’t take it anymore. 

“Fuck… me.” 

“Mm, thought you’d never ask,” Sylvain murmurs. He pulls away from Felix slightly, only to take him by the hip and lift him up easily, as if he doesn’t weigh a thing. Felix’s back presses against the slick wall of the shower cubicle. He’s not under the water anymore, but Sylvain still is, his red bands plastered against his face, his eyes narrowed slightly, his skin flushed from the water’s heat. 

His legs are spreading before he realises it and he wraps them around Sylvain’s waist, pulling him closer. Sylvain is silent as he positions his dick at Felix’s entrance, the head pressing lightly against it. Felix forces a lump down his throat, fingers digging into Sylvain’s shoulders. He wonders if he should tell Sylvain this is his first time. He doesn’t know what to expect. He wonders if it will hurt. He can handle pain but can he handle _this pain_? 

His eyes fall close as he feels Sylvain pushing in. He feels his hole spreading slowly, his muscles tensing up as Sylvain pushes in deeper. It surprisingly doesn’t hurt. His mind spins, a fire burning deep in his core and spreading slowly up his spine as Sylvain goes deeper. He’s about halfway through and Felix can already barely breathe. He throws his head back against the wall, clenching his eyes as he tries anything to keep ahold of himself. By the time Sylvain is fully in, it feel like he’s on the verge of falling apart. Sylvain holds him steady and in place, leaning his forehead on Felix’s shoulder. 

“You’re so tight,” Sylvain groans.

It hits him that he’s actually doing this and he’s doing this with Sylvain out of all people. He doesn’t know how many of his firsts is Sylvain going to just take from him like that, but it leaves him yearning for more and more. Sylvain’s touch is gentle. His voice is deep and soothing. It’s as expected of someone so desirable as he is, Felix supposes. There has to be a reason why he’s so popular despite his notorious reputation. He seems to really give people what they want— to make them feel good and even, almost, loved. _That’s stupid. That’s a fantasy._ Felix can feel the buried feelings trying to burrow their way to the top again. They’ve always come close to the surface but right now, it feels like they might just burst out again. He keeps telling himself not to delude himself into anything; if he places too much hope, he might just end up hurt again. This isn’t something worth brooding over. He knows better. There are so many things out there in the world that’s more worthy of his sadness. 

He clings onto Sylvain as Sylvain starts to move. Contrary to the way his hands and words had sounded, the snap of his hips is rough and fast. Felix chokes in a sorry attempt at trying to hold back his moans. It’s hard to stay silent, not when it took Sylvain merely a couple of tries to find that one weak spot that caused Felix to shudder and clench down on him. He continues to hit _right there_ and Felix is sure that there’s no way he’s going to be able to last long like this. 

He squeezes his eyes closed, burying his face in the nape of Sylvain’s neck as Sylvain pushes him harder against the wall, the force of his thrust amplifying as the pleasure builds. His back aches from the roughness of the wall, his muscles straining from the way Sylvain holds his legs stretched apart— they were already exhausted from soccer to begin with. But the pain merely takes a back seat in his mind. All he could really focus on is the churning in his core and the way his mind is going hazier from the wave of sensations and emotions surging through him. 

He feels Sylvain’s hand at the back of his head, fisting into his hair and tugging it backwards. Felix leans back. Sylvain brushes his lips against Felix’s neck, nibbling along the stretch and probably leaving marks as he moves. He continues to kiss up Felix’s jaw and when he reaches his ear, his tugs on the lobe with his teeth. 

“God Felix, you’re so fucking hot,” he drawls right into Felix’s ear and _that_ did it. Felix gasps, back arching, fingers digging into Sylvain’s taut muscles as he gives in and lets the pleasure wash over him. It hadn’t been the force. It hadn’t been the words. It also hadn’t been the way Sylvain’s voice dipped as he spoke. All it took was his name. He loses it at the way Sylvain moans _Felix_ out, right to his ear, straight to his core. 

It’s the first time Sylvain called him by his name. 

He chokes out another soft moan as he spills over Sylvain. He can’t believe that was all it took for him to come. It’s almost mortifying. His heart continues to race, his breath getting caught in his throat. It’s hard to think straight, not when his insides are all in a big mess, not when Sylvain is still pounding into him, mind and body consumed by the overstimulation. It takes a few thrusts more before Sylvain jerks and stops. Felix feels warmth pooling in him and despite himself, a satisfied whine escapes his lips. He shakes as Sylvain pulls out of him, though he continues to hold on tightly to him. The air suddenly feels cold now. 

“Did you like that?” Sylvain chuckles, sounding really proud of himself. Felix remains silent. He’s still breathing hard, still holding tightly onto Sylvain. Sylvain doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t really seem to rush to pull away from Felix either. He simply stands and watches, amusing himself with something that’s before him. Felix can’t tell if he has a funny expression on his face or if he had said something stupid without realising, but whatever it is, he doesn’t want to know— it’s probably embarrassing as fuck. 

Felix shifts himself slightly and Sylvain seems to take this as a sign to put him down. His muscles are protesting the sudden movements, only to suffer more the moment he rests his weight on his feet. Sylvain continues to hold him, probably well aware that he isn’t stable enough on his feet. He’s silent all through this and Felix wonders what’s going on through his mind. He considers looking up to meet his gaze, but decides against it a short while after. It’s better he doesn’t look; it’s better he doesn’t know. Sylvain probably isn’t thinking of anything right now and if so, Felix doesn’t want to know that. 

“So why’d you never approach me before?” 

Felix stiffens at Sylvain’s question. “What are you going on about?”

“No, it’s just… you seem pretty interested in—”

“Shut up.” Felix’s reply comes quick, cutting into Sylvain’s words even. But he realises it’s a little too quick. Now it only sounds like he’s confirming it. He shakes his head. “I-it’s not like I’m in love with you or anything.” 

_Who would_? Felix wants to add. He isn’t so hopeless that he’s going to fall for someone who had left him just like that in the past. He isn’t so dumb that he’s going to pin for the biggest player on campus. He’s better than that. 

“No one said anything about love. Well, whatever. Come here,” Sylvain sighs. He takes a step back and pulls Felix by the arm towards him, till they’re both standing under the shower. 

“What are you doing?” Felix grumbles. 

“We’re supposed to take a shower, aren’t we?” Sylvain chuckles. His laugh was dry and almost lifeless, yet Felix feels a small jolt run through him at the sound of it. Sylvain isn’t touching him anymore so he isn’t really sure what has him so on edge right now. Whatever it is, it bothers Felix too much for him to let it go. He really should just get on with it and leave, he decides as he takes the bottle of soap from the stand at the corner. 

“Hey, so have you made up your mind about it?” Sylvain asks after a short moment of silence as Felix starts to lather himself. 

“What?”

“You know… about my team?”

“I already said no,” Felix grumbles. He has no intention to play any more, especially not in front of a crowd. Even if it’s Sylvain that’s asking, this is one thing he has no intentions of giving in. 

“Why not?” Sylvain sounds pretty irritated— a first. He doesn’t ever recall ever seeing Sylvain like this before, not in the present and even more so in the past. “You’re good and you obviously had fun playing.” 

He did, but he’s sure it had more to do with Sylvain than the sport. Of course, he’s not going to admit that to him, not even if his life was on the line. He shakes his head again, not bothering to respond properly. 

“I don’t get you,” Sylvain huffs. Before Felix could say anything— before he could even think— Sylvain pushes him to the wall and presses his hands to his side, trapping Felix completely. “Come on, just this once? Please?” 

“Get someone else,” Felix grumbles, trying to push him away. Sylvain’s standing pretty rooted to the ground. He barely budges from the push. He furrows his brows, his confusion apparent on his face. Felix groans in exasperation. Just how hard is it for this guy to just accept the fact that Felix simply doesn’t _want_ to play?

“Come on, we’re friends now, right?” Sylvain laughs. “Help me out here.” 

_Friends_. The word is like a bullet straight to his heart. Sure, he knows that to Sylvain, a simple fuck like what they just did won’t mean much. He does it with anyone who has something between their legs. But Felix isn’t like that and even if he knows that he’s being unfair to Sylvain right now, he can’t help the irritation building up in him the more Sylvain speaks. 

It is unfair that Sylvain doesn’t remember him. It is unfair that Sylvain has moved on. It is unfair that Sylvain is living a perfect happy life without him. 

It is unfair that despite everything, Felix still can’t help pining for him. 

He hates how useless he feels right now— how inconsequential and trivial he is in Sylvain’s life. Sylvain wouldn’t bother with him if it isn’t for the stupid tournament. Sylvain isn’t interested in _him_— just what he can get from him. Felix doesn’t know what the sex means for Sylvain. He knows he would hate it if it’s just Sylvain trying to buy Felix into giving him whatever he wants. He doesn’t want to play for the team and no amount of sex is going to change that. He would hate it if it did— he would hate it if Sylvain thinks that he’s giving Felix what he _thinks_ Felix wants in return for Felix giving him what he wants. 

Sylvain doesn’t really understand Felix that well— he’s known that since the first time they’ve met. But Felix never thought it would continue till now. One would think that by the time he became an adult, Sylvain would have at least gotten better at reading and understanding people. But Felix is so wrong. Now, just like then, is exactly the same; everything is physical with Sylvain— nothing more. 

“Get off me,” Felix hisses, shoving Sylvain with enough force the make him stumble back. The sudden action takes Sylvain by surprise, and in this brief moment of disorientation, Felix grabs his towel and rushes to the door, opening it and slipping out. He doesn’t bother with drying himself much as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and his hoodie, leaving the rest of his clothes still in his bag. He drenched, his clothes are soaked, but right now, he feels too annoyed to care about any of that. He just doesn’t want to see Sylvain; he doesn’t want to be reminded of how little he means to that man. 

“Felix!” It must have taken Sylvain a while to get ahold of himself and rush out after Felix. Felix doesn’t bother turning back, leaving the locker room in his current state. He’s lucky that at this point in time, the area surrounding their campus’ field tends to be empty. No one really comes here outside of the soccer team and there isn’t any training here. He’s sure he’d get some weird looks from people when he’s in the dorms but at least that’s better than having to explain to someone why he’s rushing out of the locker room all wet and flustered. 

He just really need to get back to the dorms. He just really needs to be alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so obviously, felix is misunderstanding sylvain at some points but they're both losers so let them suffer 
> 
> should i drop my twt here for shameless self-promos,,, nghhh, whatever time for bed bye 
> 
> thank you everyone for reading and for all your kind comments! :) they always make my day heh.


End file.
